


Family

by jenna_thorn



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: dark!giles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:06:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7651120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna_thorn/pseuds/jenna_thorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Family was originally written for Eliade, who wanted to see Spike in a collar.<br/>Later bits were for people who wanted to know more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Am I getting more sensitive or are these guys not bothering to hide their smell?"

"Pack's been here a while.." Faith starts.

"and besides, we are two hours out of Sunnydale. Everyone knows we are based there…" says Buffy.

"So why would they hide?"

"And the finishing of each other's sentences still freaks me out." Both of them turn to look at Xander and give identical smiles.

Xander: It's true what they say about muscle memory. I can disassemble and clean any standard US Army issue weapon within field time limits; in fact I can usually beat them. Maybe the skills would have faded if I hadn't kept using them, but it seems a waste to just throw that kind of talent away. The Slayer can keep her crossbows, the simple wooden stakes, the traditional shit. I'm human, so I wear Kevlar, and I carry the guns. Short range, long range, a tool for every job. The Nerf supersoaker is as dangerous as the sawed off Winchester Defender in the right hands, specifically mine. I make Willow wear the Kevlar, too, despite her protests. And she throws her shields over me, soap bubbles of nothing, but I've seen them stop an Agyar in mid leap, so I'll put my skin in her hands. She's learned to duck under my line of fire. We've become a team. 

A butt strike shatters the window and I let the bouncing red ball do the work and just pull the trigger as the Slayers take out the door, faces obscured by gas masks, throwing in the silver nitrate grenades Willow worked up in the basement. The laser sight is a neat toy, but I wonder briefly if it counts as cheating, until one of them slips past Faith, unusually clumsy in her chain mail, and dives at Will. The bullet follows the light and I take him down less than two feet from her. Closer than I'd like, but she doesn't even flutter. Yeah, her shields would have held. Now they don't have to. Willow drops to her knees in the muted glitter of blank painted shards in front of the window and I stand as close to over her as the outer wall will allow. She pulls the full moon into the bar, shining, lovely, and distracting as all Hell. Even the weres turn from the fight until the crack of a bone reminds them that Death, paired in black leather and crimson lipstick, still dances among them. I do my best to watch the outside of the building and still cover Willow as she forces the moon to speed through her phases, Mother Nature on fast forward and as the last sliver disappears, the monsters drop to lie mostly still, mostly silent, and mostly human. I reach through the window and drag Will out, careful of the last of the glass in the sill, but wanting to get her back into the SUV before the Slayers start the clean up. I'll get her settled, then go in myself. It's too late to keep my hands clean, but I can pretend to protect her. 

Back at the house Xander runs his thumb over Willow's cheek, smoothing away the roughened red patch where the mask cuts in. He leans over to kiss between her eyes and the white sparks where her fingertips meet the keyboard flicker citrine and topaz for a moment.

"Aw, look at the old married couple." Faith says as she runs her hand up inside Buffy's sweater to cup one breast. Buffy rolls her eyes, but doesn't brush the hand away. "We're one big happy Brady Bunch kind of family." 

Spike drops the game control and rolls on his back, staring at Giles though his spread legs until Giles sighs and places the PostIt note at the top of his page. "Are you my daddy?" Eyes narrowed, Giles reopens his book and ostentatiously ignores all of them. Spike rolls to hands and knees; the forgotten game bleeps plaintively. He crawls to Giles and the giggles from the couch go silent. He is a predator, albeit a technologically restrained one, and this stalking makes his hunter's nature clear - a sinuous smooth flow of muscle over bone, contained threat in pale flesh and dark cotton. Giles isn't even pretending not to watch, not anymore, book open on his lap, PostIt fluttering from the arm of the chair. "Do you want to be my daddy?" A snort from Xander fills the silence, but no one looks away. "Or will you throw me away when you find something bright and shi…" Giles hooks two fingers in Spike's tee, twisting his wrist to lock the cloth and slowly pulling Spike upward, forcing him to crawl in a slither into the chair.

He whispers "What token would assure you that you…are…mine?" He trails his lips along the underside of Spike jaw, then bites, round mortal teeth tearing the skin, not cleanly puncturing, but tearing and bruising. Marking. "I've no intention of marrying you, Spike." He says calmly, unruffled. "But I suppose I could find a collar for you." 

Spike slides down his legs, pooling at Giles' feet. The book, forgotten, falls to the floor with a rustle and crack and the moment is broken.

"Damn, B., between the smoochy lovebirds and the porn show over there, we're middle of the road. Holy shit! I'm boring!" she points an accusatory finger at Buffy "That's your fault." She's met with a pillow to the face, and returns the attack with tickles, but Buffy clasps both her wrists and pulls them to the side. 

"Hey, you are moping." Willow doesn't bother to deny Buffy quiet question. 

Buffy leans forward, disengaging from Faith to pat Willow gently. "You know Oz would never get involved with something like that. "He's a good guy." She leans back. "So he's safe." 

Spike glances up at Giles, but Giles says smoothly, "Of course he is. As well, he's overseas, didn't you say Tibet?" He goes back to his book; Spike to his video game; Willow to the computer.

 

Faith: So much for the spiel. One girl in all the world, my shiny heinie. Slayers', both and neither. The Slayer and the Second, a hook and a jab, Xander the range weapon and Will's our ace in the hole, most of the time. Though there have been times, she's been point against the Dark and we stood around, hands in pockets, thumbs up butts, waiting for it to work or for all hell to break through. One of the many things the Council gets pissy about, when they still bother to contact us. But they've mostly given up, I guess figuring that after we are all dead, they can rule the roost again. Giles sends them notes and money appears when we need it, so they know what we are doing, living in Joyce's house, now Buffy's. I've got the room that the Key was in, until we used her blood to close the gate. More blood, one more death for Buffy in a weird magic way. I could remember Dawn, sitting on the couch with Joyce before she died, but I knew she wasn't real. Good thing I was there; Buffy was a mess, but Giles was the man of the hour. Even as I stood at the top of that scaffolding, I could hear him in the back of my head, saying "A clean cut is a mercy, for anyone." He's a nicer guy than anybody gives him credit for, sometimes. Yeah, he's hip deep in demons and some of the spellwork has been a little iffy, but he's on our side, and that's what matters, when it comes right down to it. But it's the six of us against the Vampires and the Demons and if the Watcher's want to put themselves on the wrong side of that equation, bring it on. 

Was it a sure thing that we'd pair up? Maybe that's part of why Slayer relationships don't last. We need someone who can match us blow for blow and when you're the one girl in all the world, that is just not an option. Willow and the Xan-man, they were a forgone conclusion. I can't imagine having a best friend since Kindergarten. Hell, I can't remember anyone from Kindergarten, though I do remember a cool- ass tire swing in a tree. Giles and Ethan surprised us, for a bit, though no one batted an eye when Ethan ran. Giles is a little ... intense … these days. I suspect he's the same in the bedroom, or the kitchen, whatever. He wears the tweed sometimes. After something big, he'll pull it out. It's comforting in some Santa Claus and flannel blankie way. But then he goes back to the black denim and leather, making tea, sprawling on the sofa, or hovering in mid air, blue electricity flickering around him. We've walked in on him like that more than once. He's pulling from both sides of the spectrum, doing stuff he won't let Wills do. She knows it and gets pissy. Xander knows it and is, I bet, grateful. Buffy doesn't notice and I don't get a vote. Not even now. 

"Oh, that's a new kind of gross."

"I don't know, Will, that's pretty much the same kind of gross we get on a regular basis."

"No, no. Look closer. At the wigglies."

Xander wipes most of the gore from the bayonet and leans over the eviscerated demon. "Okay, thank you so much for bringing those to my attention and yes, that is a new level of gross. Maybe no ice cream for me today."

"But you promised!" He is surrounded by three girls with varying expressions of wide-eyed pleading. Spike, snickering in the background, offers no assistance. 

"Fine, but no one gets chocolate sprinkles."

Spike glances at the entrails, "Looks more like toasted coconut from here, mate."

"No coconut, no sprinkles. Everyone got that?" He hefts his duffel over his shoulder and leads the way out of the alley, but Faith lags behind, watching Spike toe the corpse.

"So tell me, who's on top? I mean, yeah, you got the vamp thing going but really, Giles, even in the library, he beats you on butch by what, a factor of ten?"

"Five seconds ago you were seven years old and begging for treats. Now you're talking dirty?" He shakes his head.

"So who's getting nailed? Or are you really just spending the nights on the couch?"

"Why the sudden interest in my sex life, ducks? The girl-on-girl getting old? Cause there's toys, you know. Or cameras." He leers.

"Nah, just curious. How you go from the Big Bad to blowing the Good Guys." She turns away gesturing, "I mean, Love's Bitch and all, but I just never thought I see you kneel." She glances under her bangs at him. "Not to a Watcher, at any rate."

His boot catches her high in the chest and she ricochets against the brick wall. He wrenches her wrists over her head before she can shake the double blow off. "You've gotten sloppy, Slayer. How do you know I haven't just been waiting for this? Seducing him, biding my time. Waiting for the chance to get one of you alone." He pulls her higher, at the limit of his arms, but her feet dangle, even in the ridiculous platform boots, two inches above the wall. Before she can kick off the wall behind her and launch into an attack, he has her pinned, thigh to thigh, his knees inside hers, pressing tight denim tighter and immobilizing all but her head. He bends to her neck, speaking quietly to her collarbone. "Then again, maybe it's not a double cross. Maybe I am the bitch." He works his way up her neck, more nips than kisses, to her ear. There is no way, not pressed together like this, to hide her shiver. "Which would make us two of a kind, eh?" He drops her swiftly. As she touches the ground, she launches a roundhouse kick, which he negligently counters with his forearm. 

They stand, facing one another for a moment, her quick breaths echoing, then he reaches in his coat for a cigarette. He makes a production of lighting it and she steals it from his lips, taking a slow drag, never dropping her eyes from his, then returning it to him. She punches him lightly on the shoulder. "It's all good." They leave the alley.

Willow: But Spike went up against the Initiative and lost. And we went up against Adam and won. And we should have been surprised when Spike showed up on Giles' doorstep, but we weren't. And as weeks went by and Spike moved from the bathtub to the couch to the bed, we didn't really…protest, I guess. Giles could handle him. Even unchipped, Spike was a sucker for love and we had no doubt Spike was in love. None of us thought Giles was. But I'd realize halfway through a strategy meeting that Giles was wearing Spike's shirt, or we'd come back from a hunt and Giles would be sitting, alone with one lamp on, drinking single malt and listening to Friggin in the Riggin. I never thought I'd actually know the tune to a song with a name like that. 

"C'mon Wills, it's been forever since we had movie night."

"I know, and I am having fun, I'm just …"

"Sulking? Moping? Pouting?" Faith punctuated each word by throwing a kernel of popcorn into the air, missing all of them. Buffy gathered the stragglers off the couch and threw them into the pizza box.

"Look, you get to do your thing. I'm Magic Girl. I should be there, with them, fighting the Magic Guy. Do I make you stay home when it Vamp time?"

"Willow, there's no fight. He's a parasite, but not really a danger. Giles just went to talk to him, convince him to lay off the locals."

"And Spike?"

"Nobody goes anywhere without back up."

"Oh hush, Xander, or we won't let you watch any more cop shows. Spike is just there for, um, moral support." She glances up at Faith's snicker and Willow can't hide her smile. "Immoral support? Well, okay, muscle, I guess. This Rack guy's human, Spike can't do anything anyway."

"Maybe Spike's just being taken for a walk. I can't believe he wears the collar."

"I can't believe Giles admits to giving it to him."

"That's a weird dynamic."

"No, Willow, that's the Odd Couple."

"Spoken like a great big lesbo."

"Hey!"

"Hey, the both of you or I'll put in Thin Red Line next."

"We'll be good." Willow sits back against Xander's knees again and Faith throws herself haphazardly on the couch. Buffy glares at the feet thrown so unceremoniously into her lap, but twitches the afghan over them both. Before the movie is over, Willow is curled in Xander's lap and Faith is drooling on the back of the couch, one final kernel of popcorn still in her hand. The porch creaks, giving Buffy enough warning to get to the door and open it with her finger to her lips. 

"Ah, how much of the marathon did we miss? The obligatory weepie? The Merchant / Ivory that Willow always gets for me? I have yet to convince her that she's fonder of Anthony Hopkins and Kenneth Branaugh than I am."

"You missed Grease and Saturday Night Fever, but we saved Pulp Fiction for Spike. Faith was in a Travolta mood at Blockbuster." 

"Hey, he's cool." Faith answers sleepily from the couch and crunches twice on popcorn. "But I'm out. You comin' B.?"

"Yeah, Xander, you gonna watch the last one now? Or we can do the lunchtime matinee tomorrow."

"Give me a minute," he struggled to rise, but as slight as she is, Willow is badly positioned across him. Giles lifts her off Xander, her head lolling against his shoulder until Xander takes her in his arms and she snuggles to him with a sigh. "No teasing her about this, guys."

Spike pulls a zipper across his lips and snickers, Giles pats her hair fondly and nods. Buffy folds the afghan as Xander starts up the stairs carefully. 

"Odd, I never before realized how much Willow smells of strawberries," Giles muses as he shuts down the dvd player and turns off the tv.

Rupert: I am the Aleph and the Omega, straddling the Hellmouth, pulling the ragged edges closed with strength of my own will. As long as I live, it will remain closed. I've assured this with blood, the blood of my foes, the blood of my children, the blood of their lovers, the blood of my own. I have given up my illusions for strength. So be it. 

Faith places both hands on their table as the others straggle in, hair still damp from showers. She smiles brightly at the locals in the booth under the stairs. "And our table just came free. What luck." Three of them leave hastily, tugging the fourth as they go. Faith drops into the booth with a squeak of leather. Willow joins her with a long suffering sigh. "What?"

"It's like they're afraid of us, or something."

"There's no like to it, sugar." Faith slaps a quick tattoo on the tabletop, looking for the others. "I'm going to burn off some boredom. You holding the fort?" and she's up and away before Willow can answer. As the others enter, they split, Buffy joining Faith on the dance floor, Spike choosing a pool table and leaning just within line of sight, smiling slightly, until the hapless humans give up and yield the table to him. He summons Xander with a wave, but Faith comes as well. "Threeway? You know you wanna." 

"Ladies first." Xander gestures as Spike returns from their table leaving his coat to be guarded by a chatting Buffy and Willow.

"You're wearing that thing in public now? Damn, Spike, you have been neutered ain't cha?" Faith breaks with a crack.

Spike didn't bother to raise his voice. "Anytime, anywhere, sweetness. And your little dog too." He banks the one and it slides cleanly in. Faith leans over the table, crossing her arms where Spike's next bank needs to be, incidentally exposing her cleavage to most of the room, and not distracting Spike in the least. 

"Ah yes, this game never gets old." 

"Huh?"

"As you are so fond of reminding me, I'm playing with balls now. Get your tits off the table, bint." 

"Do I call you names?"

"Hm, let me think." Another crack of the cue and the four drops into the corner, "Yes," followed by the five and six in combination. Faith shoots Xander an incredulous look, but Xander just shrugs. She poses, hipshot and leaning on her cue, scanning the area, losing interest in the game. Spike drops the nine, burying the cue ball behind a cluster of the low teens.

"We are going to have to come up with another handicap for you, Spike. Even banking all your shots, you still run the table." 

"What can I say, being a kept man has given me too much leisure time for you to compete."

"Do you really expect me to resist making some comment about your leisure time and sticks and balls?"

"Couldn't come up with anything clever, eh?"

"Not quickly enough, no." They grin, comfortable and open, before Faith's stillness registers. Buffy's at the bar, leaning too far for modesty in the skirt she's in. She doesn't see the look of appraisal being directed at her by a trio nearby. Faith does. Spike takes her stick with a smirk, but Xander pats her arm and steps in front of her. He throws an arm over the nearest ogler, oozing insincere friendliness and speaks quietly enough that he can be ignored if the Slayers choose to do so. "Hey, friendly warning from the field. You know the stories about the girl at the bar and as soon as you make a pass, her 300 pound biker boyfriend comes up and grinds you into kafta?" They look at one another, then at Buffy with skepticism. "Yeah, that one. Here's your chance to back down. That's the most help I'll be, other than moving your corpses out of the way of traffic, 'kay?" He strides back to the table, glancing back over his shoulder, where Buffy has been joined by both Spike and Faith. One of the guys looks at him and points, not at all discreetly, and Xander shakes his head and moves Buffy's backpack to sit down. 

"You figure if I made hand washing motions, they'd get the point?" 

"Not even if you had a sign, sweetie. But it was nice of you to try to keep them out of trouble. Wow, and we aren't keeping our guys out of trouble; we're helping strangers. That's funny, in a not particularly funny kind of way." Willow nudges him with her shoulder. "Aren't you the Boy Scout, helping little old ladies across the street and keeping the blind from getting whomped up on." 

Xander takes a swing of her water, "yeah, wait? I'm Mr. Responsible? When did that happen?" and he nuzzles her hair as she laughs.

"We aren't in high school anymore. Face it, when we first brought Buffy here, did you expect to be here now, with, well, with Two Slayers, and a chipped vampire?" 

"A chipped vampire with a collar that matches his pants and two Slayers turning the dance floor into a hormone martini, shaken not stirred. Hey," he plays with the water bottle, tossing it back and forth as she taps the stylus on the screen of her Blackberry. "Remember the chick in High School, the demon with Cordy's wish? Everybody gets the girl, even Giles." Willow giggles and pokes his ribs.

"I think if this were a wishverse, we wouldn't have walked in on Spike and Giles the other day. Oh, look, Fred emailed me back on the Maurits Codex!"

Xander smiles as he leans to read over her shoulder. "Still a pretty damn good wish."

Willow: I guess it was the band candy that did it. Or maybe when Ethan first showed up, Hallowe'en, what was that, our Sophomore year? Never thought we'd get used to seeing him around, but we did, eventually, until he split again. Or maybe it was Drusilla taking out Kendra that pushed him over, or Faith's Watcher showing up and oozing pompousness all over the place. Giles got a little tougher, a little harder each year. When the Mayor started acting up, he really didn't stand a chance. And now Giles had two Slayers, for as long as Buffy lived. He was the only Watcher in history who could say such a thing, who could make such an impact on the world. So he did. And we helped.


	2. Closer than Family

The door flew open with a satistfyingly dramatic bang as Xander kicked it open. He kept the wall to his back with the ease of far too much practice and a couple of noteable exceptions only to see that once again, the party had passed him. Or passed out without him, as the case may be. Willow sat on the floor, legs splayed out and leaning against Giles, who was supporting her with one arm and pulling himself up with the second.

"Injuries?" he barked, trying to see how Willow could be injured in such a way as to require direct pressure at mid chest. Broken ribs again? Both Slayers were curled around on another, clothes in disarray. A quick assessment showed the demon must have been using an edged weapon, or perhaps claws. Bits of shirt were tossed about the room and Faith's pants had been ripped from waistband to mid thigh. 

"Su..su..Succ…" Willow stammered, blinking wide eyes at him, while Giles dropped his forehead into his free hand, sliding the other down across Willow's ribs, under her sweater, to her waist. 

"Suck? Wills, honey, suck what? Poison?" A thousand hours spent in front of Grizzly Adams and Little House on the Prairie flashed in front of his eyes. "You've been bitten?"

Giles took a single shuddering breath as Willow fell forward into Xander's arms. She wrapped one leg around his thigh and ground against him. One of the Slayers moaned quietly, Faith he guessed, the recent years of living in one another's pockets having given them all far too intimate a knowledge of one another's various involuntary sounds. Xander could differentiate Spike's belches from Faith's even when they were both belching out the alphabet. 

And Willow was still grinding against him, her fingers quick in his hair and pulling his Kevlar in directions the Velcro didn't want it to go. And suddenly it all made sense, though recognizing Buffy's answering moan was surely a subliminal key. "Giles, man, succubus?" He pulled away from Willow to face Giles, whose eyes were closed and hands trembling. "Are we safe?" A bit of sanity, enough, he hoped, returned to Giles' face and he nodded, once. Xander felt the waist of his own pants relax suddenly and the weight in the side pockets dragged them down too quickly to catch. But ah, Willow, his Willow was faster still, sliding cool hands into his shorts and if he'd known he'd be exposing them, he would have gone commando instead of indulging Willow's Tasmanian Devil fixation but there he was, Taz on one thigh and himself in open air as Willow stroked with a sure hand and Giles dropped to his knees before him. And somehow knowing that Giles and Spike were a couple, even hearing Spike's crude jokes and Giles subtler innuendo, was so very different than feeling that mouth around his cock, than looking down his own chest to see graying hair in front of him, than being pushed farther into a wider jaw, a firmer touch, a deeper intake by Willow's persistent grinding and with more discipline than he thought he had, with more discipline than any red blooded male should have, he pulled to the side, dragging Willow with one hand to close the door. 

As though the initial contact had broken what shaking close held control he'd had, Giles didn't return to the wall, instead stretching toward the Slayers who stirred, raising twin flushed faces to him with feral eyes. The Kevlar sagged as Willow pulled the straps at the waist and back and he shrugged out of it and into her embrace, her lips pulling at his as she crawled up him, settling down over his cock and he had a moment to wonder at how quickly she shimmied out of her jeans and a second to appreciate the weight he'd gained and she hadn't and then all wondering stopped as she started to move.


	3. Friends

Willow closed her book and scrambled to stand beside Giles as Buffy joined them at the gate. Buffy traced the "G" on the Golden Oaks Cemetery, "You think these are golden in daylight?

"They are pretty much just silver in moonlight." Willow shrugged. She swept an acorn off the ground and said, "Watch this. It's so cool." The acorn on her palm shivered in time lapse photography, the crackling electricity illuminating her from below like some kid telling ghost stories at a campfire. The brown shell cracked, rent by a tiny shoot that exploded into leaf. Buffy cried out in delight at the unfurling, echoed by Will's surprised shout of pain as the sapling in her hand shot a tap root into her palm. A single drop of blood spattered her jeans and Giles hand shot out, long fingers wrapping around her shaking wrist, the other cupping the tiny tree and pushing. 

"Idiot girl" he snarled as ashes fell from their joined hands and Willow looked up, eyes brimming with tears. "Where did you think it would draw nourishment?"

"But," she sniffed, "the beans didn't …."

His eyes flashed dark in the moonlight. "Do try to extrapolate logically." She blinked back the tears, pain forgotten in the sudden flare of hurt at his tone. Giles withdrew both hands and walked ahead. "Correlate your new data and draw a conclusion," he shot back over his shoulder.

Willow waited until he was far enough away to ignore her before whispering "Jerk," to Buffy and they slowed to a stroll. Buffy automatically scanned the area for potential threats as Willow focused on her palm, fingers curling in involuntarily as she Healed the small wound, shaking free the sticky remnants of blood. "I'm damn good at healing," she raised her voice to call after him. "And shield spells and armor spells and," she continued more quietly, "I'm never ever gonna be ready for anything big"

"Oak trees are pretty big, Wills."

"Bean sprouts are pretty small, Buff." Buffy reached out and Willow snarled, "Pat me on the head and I'll chain your wrists together," Buffy raised her hands in mock surrender and Willow shrugged, continuing less angrily, "I just feel like I'm…like he's…I don't know. I'm Snow White in a glass coffin. With velvet pillows and four walls so I can't move my arms."

Buffy allowed another minute of silence before venturing, "Faith's pretty happy with your Healing spells. Especially last week."

"Yeah, I guess so. That didn't scar did it?"

"Not so's you'd notice, actually."

They crested the rise to find that Spike had met Giles at the benches along the road. 

"You'd think they'd just bring lawn chairs if they planned to stop and visit for a while." Willow said.

"Visiting wasn't the intent," Spike toed something on the ground. 

Buffy crouched to squint at a used condom. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

"Oi Slayer, look me in the eye and tell me you've only had sex on a bed."

She flipped him off, "Not in a graveyard."

His return volley, "Yeah alley's more your style…" was cut off by Giles.

"Willow, building on what you know, without recourse to the library, make a supposition."

She glared, but complied, "Fine, spilled semen on a grave," she glanced up and corrected herself, "a Hellmouth grave would yield life-in-death. Life charged graves…."

Buffy said to Spike, "demonic energy sucking semen?"

"Blood is better?"

"Okay, I've never stopped thinking 'Ew' to your diet, I've just gotten quieter about it."

Willow's voice firmed and rose as she wandered toward a conclusion, "so it's not an all over thing, it's just a Hellmouth thing."

"Essentially, yes. Though any occult charged area would do, so Sunnydale, Cleveland, or inversely, Glastonbury Tor or Nob Hill."

"So now what, we wait for it to rise?" Buffy asked. "We should have brought snacks. Or cards."

"Willow?"

She rolled her eyes, but said, "Nope, it's not ready to rise, so we are going to yank it out early and you two are going to whomp up on it and I'm going to stay over here and not get hurt and Giles is going to sigh at me a lot."

"I love how your plans include everyone." Buffy leaned over for a quick hug before pulling twin daggers from the jacket sheath.

"Comes from being picked last for kickball for so many years." Willow grumbled as she knelt to lay both hands on the ground.

\---:::---

Willow's earlier pique had dissipated in the chaos of the conflict and Giles watched as the two bright heads, bound together by clasped hands and whispered words, passed the gate, headed for home and microwave popcorn. He sighed and Spike chuckled. 

"They still seem so very young to me."

"Legal by California law. Good thing, too, considering."

"I wasn't speaking of their … relationships."

"Nether was I. C'mon say the word." Spike stepped close enough to brush Giles' jacket. "Say sex. C'mon, say you've watched the Slayers snogging and thought about plaid skirts and white blouses and ponytails and braids and pink ribbons and patent leather shoes." 

Giles laughed, open and rich, floating over the silvered trees and plastic roses on graves. "No, Spike, you've filled any need I have for role play. In fact, I think my mind couldn't handle the image of Faith as a schoolgirl, so I'll thank you not to try to put it there again."

"Yeah well, nice to know I'm good for something," Spike knelt and poked the demon corpse under the bench. He came away with greenish blue ichor on his hand, but there was nowhere to wipe it that wasn't equally spattered already. Giles' finger in the back of his collar pulled him back to standing. 

"Do you doubt it?" Giles said softly, then watching Spike's hand, continued more sharply "And if you put that in your mouth, I'll not kiss you again until you've brushed your teeth. Twice. With baking powder. And possibly Scotch."

"Fine then," Spike wiped his fingers with supercilious care on his thigh, smearing the streaks already on the denim. "Better?" He wiggled faintly stained fingers at the other man and pulled a pack from his coat.

But Giles' attention had been diverted by the congealing pool oozing onto the gravel path. "Am I vain, Spike, to hope to leave a less disgusting corpse?"

Spike ducked to light a cigarette, "Who am I to speak? When you die, it'll be on top of my ashes. At least they'll soak up some of the blood," he said, crumpling the empty pack.

"Why Spike, I never knew you were such a romantic." Spike fixed him with a long suffering glare and Giles laughed, "No wait, yes I did." He pulled the cigarette from Spike's hand and flicked it onto the corpse.

"Wanker."

"Bitch"

"We've established that, old man."

Giles' laugh rang from the concrete around them. A twitch of his fingers and a whispered word set the smouldering cigarette to burning blue and scattering green-gold sparks.


	4. Dance Floor

Buffy hadn't left the dance floor since they walked in the door, so Xander and Faith left Willow to guard their table and shouldered a path to the bar. A trick of the acoustics of the place made the area near the bar merely loud instead of actually deafening and as Xander dug out a twenty, Faith grabbed three of the flimsy plastic glasses and turned away. A guy, reeking of expensive perfume but wearing a cheap jacket, stared deliberatly at Faith's thin top and leered, "It must be cold in here."

She paused; Xander braced himself. She leaned away, eyed the guy's jeans with obvious disdain and replied, "Guess so."

By the time he gathered the remaining plastic glasses and caught up with her, he had to shout, "You feeling okay? Tired? Sick?" He set the glasses down in front of Willow and raised the back of his hand to Faith's forehead. She brushed him away with a laugh and took a long pull of her own glass. 

"Nah, but I'd have had to set the beer back down to deck him."

"Ah, yes, I admire your sense of priority."

"Bullshit, you admire the same thing he does," she said with a laugh and pulled him to join Buffy on the floor.


End file.
